The Right Amount of Dumb
by SapphireOcean
Summary: Eva Rosalene, Neil Watts, and their relationship in a thousand ways and moments. (Marked complete but perpetually ongoing.)
1. Finding Paradise missing scene

Decided it was high time to gather all my Rosawatts ficbits and headcanons from Tumblr in one place. Redundancy? I don't know her.  
Fics aren't connected unless I mention it. There will be plenty more to come! Title from a piece on Finding Paradise's OST. but fun fact everything else here will have awful titles bc I (almost) never title anything on Tumblr whoops

This first one is something I started to write pretty much instantly after That Scene in Finding Paradise. Took longer than expected, for good reason I suppose; its power nearly exploded my tumblr lmao. proper title of this is "the adventures of sharkboy and princess jellyfish" which _apparently_ is too long. how boring

* * *

"Okay, we're all set," Neil calls over his shoulder, dusting his hands of memento energy. He can barely hear her reply.

"Go ahead. I'll catch up."

_Oh, come on._ "The hell I'm not," he mutters. With a huff, he spins around and marches down the steps.

The snark he'd loaded up fades away as he moves closer. She really is mesmerized, almost pressing her face to the glass as a jellyfish floats right past. Like a little kid. Something warm fizzles in his chest, but he shoves it away.

He stops next to her, jamming his hands into his pockets, and watches the jellies too. _I bet she knows all their names. Wonder if she has a favorite. Oh, that's one's kind of cool…_

But there's only so much time those blobs can hold his interest when he's right next to _her_, and she has stars in her eyes. Right now she wouldn't react to a herd of elephants trundling by behind her, so he feels safe enough to let his gaze linger. He remembers the flush in her cheeks when she first entered and saw the jellies; that's faded by now. Her gaze is somehow rapt and far away at the same time, and he can guess how she feels from how he felt, whenever he stared up at the night sky brimming with stars. Nothing else matters but looking, breathing, sinking into your own mind and into the world at the same time.

Speaking of time… They're running out of it with Colin. They have to move on.

"I said I'd catch up."

He very valiantly does not startle. She's looking at him, how long has she been doing that, hell–

"We could probably come back here in… real life," he says in reply, and as the words come to him it's an awful idea but he can't stop talking– "If you want. Y'know, to see the real jellyfish."

"Are– are you serious?!" She doesn't quite avoid shouting as she faces him fully, a soft fire in her eyes and hands clenched at her sides. "I swear, Neil, if you're messing with me–"

"'Course not. I value my life too much." _oh god she's cute_ says a traitorous voice in his head, derailing his train of thought. _oh god she's __**really cute**_– He pushes his glasses back up his nose. His neck itches; he ignores it. "Why not. I'd like to look at sharks that aren't all fuzzy."

Her face goes flat in a practiced (and familiar) way. "You missed a possibly important conversation. Because of fuzzy sharks."

"My mind wandered," he said with a shrug. A lie, partly. He'd missed some of the exchange, but what he had heard struck a chord more deeply than he cared to admit. There's only so little time in this life. Nothing he hasn't heard before in a thousand different ways, so why now…? "You weren't there to make me pay attention, Princess Jellyfish."

And there's the smirk. "Excuse me for forgetting you need adult supervision."

He raises one eyebrow and spreads his arms, one hand indicating her, the other the jellies. "Pot? Kettle?"

"Completely different situation," she says, and tromps past him with a head toss that flicks her hair into his face. "Let's get going."

It takes him a moment (_Eva used Hair Flip! It's super-effective!_), but the nervous energy from what he's just pulled off pushes him to move eventually.

By the time he reaches the memento, he's back in mission mode.

~_meanwhile_~

Now that Eva's yanked herself away from the jellies, she's clear-eyed, energized, and– _Wait. Did he just…?_ She frowns, chewing her lip. _…Nah._

Even so, something small and fizzy settles in her ribs. It is nice that he seems to be taking her obsession interest seriously.

Besides: plausible deniability. She'll take it.

"Ready, your highness?"

She doesn't jump. Maybe twitches. "Knock it off, shark boy."

In her peripheral vision, as she reaches for the memento, she sees him grin.


	2. AU-flavored Rosawatts dream

This is almost too small to post but here's a headcanon-dream I had, waaaay back when I first began shipping Rosawatts (and forgot about it again, maybe I'll still get a fic out of it idk). slightly edited to make my talktags flow better.

* * *

I don't remember enough for it to make sense but it was definitely AU, they were new security guards or something at this fancy place? boring I guess but they were still hightech+badass even tho they were newbies

ANYWAY THE IMPORTANT BIT

Rosawatts being shown the ropes/watching how to work this new tech, and Eva's watching intently, doing this thing with her hands like she's at a keyboard even tho she isn't (a habit/memory thing she has). Neil notices and has just a really sweet tender look on his face like "that's my girl" while he watches her, not even paying attention to the instructions, but he puts a poker face on when he nudges her and says "hey you're doing the thing" and Eva's like "oh. Yeah." vaguely embarrassed but goes right back to doing it and Neil smiles with soft eyes as soon as she's not looking

IT WAS SUPER CUTE OK NEIL HAS IT BAD

(then Eva has to remind him of everything like "honestly Neil were u even listening", and Neil is all "ahaha u know i learn by doing not by being talked at" but sweating nervously  
and she leans over his shoulder to make sure he's doing it right, so more nervous sweating/trying not to blush)

In conclusion: flustered Neil is best Neil and I don't care if it's out of character :D


	3. (not) your boyfriend’s shirt

This came out of a fic request on the SigmundCorp Discord. It was a simple one, on the surface: Eva needs to stay at Neil's place and ends up in his clothes. I went in expecting to write a plotless pile of fluff, but then a tiny plot barged in and Rosawatts kept talking at each other and of course it ended up much longer than I had envisioned. (Spoiler: I like this one A Lottm.)

* * *

Set during their training slash college days. I think. Settings aren't my strong suit. :P

Distant thumping filtered into Neil's headphones. Some part of his brain registered the noise wasn't part of the soundtrack, but it wasn't urgent– he was two photon bombs away from beating this boss, and he'd already died five times, and it wasn't gonna be six.

The thumps grew louder. Like door knocks? It was a freaking typhoon outside, who would be at his door in this…

"Oh, shit," he muttered, realizing, then, "Son of a bitch!" as the momentary lapse proved fatal to his avatar. He flung the controller onto the couch and hurried over to the door.

"Eva," he said as he opened it, "what the hell–"

Her hand was raised mid-knock, and she looked like a drowned cat except three times as pissed. She said something as she sloshed past him but the words were lost in a monstrous gust of wind.

"What?" he said, half-shouting as he struggled with the door. Finally slamming it shut, he turned around only to crack his elbow on the doorknob when Eva let loose.

"I've had it up to _here _with those sadists at the academy!" She gestured wildly while she spoke, flinging water all over the carpet. "Heaven forbid you get one minuscule insignificant detail wrong in front of Peterson, we all know that, but I swear he has it out for me, Neil. Every chance he gets he's the one that observes me and I thought I'd learned not to let it get to me but he brought a pack of his favorite bozos to the class today and he, he," a breath, "he destroyed me. If I were a lesser person I'd have done something to put me on janitor duty for a week. No, a month." She made a noise somewhere between a screech and a groan, shoving her hands into her hair. "_Fuck._ I hate him, I hate all of them. Damn it, I'm never gonna graduate because of them! I'm _good _at this, I want to be an agent!"

"You're not good," Neil interjected, meeting her sharp shocked gaze straight on. He'd eased toward her while she ranted and now stood an arm's length away. "You're the _best._ I guarantee Peterson and his cronies are terrified of you, and it doesn't help that he's a jerkwad of the highest order on top of that."

"I don't know how to win against him." Her voice had shrunk, same as her posture. Head bowed, her face was hidden under the waterfall of hair. "This is all I know how to do now. If, if I don't get my certification…"

While she'd vented, part of him was worrying over what exactly he could say that might help. But the way she stood there, looking so small, made him talk without thinking. "You keep going back. Keep doing everything you know how to do. Spend more time with Roxie." That got a snort. "_Don't give up._ That's how you win. There's only so long Peterson can hold out against your awesomeness. And don't forget you've got allies over there." Somewhat surprised by his own speech, he hid it by crossing his arms and regarding her narrow-eyed. "But… I _know _you already know all that. You don't need me of all people giving you a pep-talk, right?"

"No. I don't need it." She stood straighter now, and had shoved some hair out of her face. A smile reached one corner of her mouth. "It's still nice to hear y– someone else say it."

_Mission accomplished._ "Glad to help."

"Ah, jeez, I'm getting your carpet all soggy…" She stepped back, loosing a few more droplets.

"Never mind that," he said with a handwave, walking past her. He turned when she just stood there. "Come on, let's concentrate on you not turning into an Evasicle."

"What? Oh–" Laughter burst from her, bending her double for a moment (he staunchly ignored his stomach somersaulting) before she followed.

"Bathroom's here." He waved at the door. "Hop in the shower, warm up, everything's there you might need except a hair dryer, sorry. I'm gonna go grab you something to wear. Just leave all your clothes outside the door and I'll hide out in the living room."

She blinked at him, rubbing her arms absently. "Neil, you don't– I can just towel off– I mean it's nice of you but–"

"No buts," he said over his shoulder as he started down the hall. "I think your lips are turning blue."

He was rummaging through his closet when his neurotic side realized how she could have taken that. Grabbing the first shirt he spotted (something black) to go with the sweatpants he'd retrieved, he scurried back to her hoping she hadn't–

"You been staring at my mouth, Neil?" She was smirking and shivering at the same time so it wasn't as effective as it might have been, _and yet._

"Please," he scoffed while his mind yelled obscenities at him. "I could tell from 10 feet away." He pushed the clothes at her. "You might need to roll up the pant cuffs, but they should fit. My room's down that way if they don't, take whatever you want, now go shower before you freeze any more."

He spun around toward the living room, but managed to raise a hand in response to her soft, "Thanks."

Somehow, cold had settled over him too. He took a detour to the kitchen and stared confusedly at the cabinets before the brilliant idea to make hot chocolate occurred to him. _Does she like marshmallows…?_

He was ensconced on the couch with two mugs of cocoa on the side table next to him, controller in hand, when Eva showed up again. He heard her before he saw her.

"I'm only going to say this once, so pay attention."

Pausing the game, he gave her a glance and did a subtle (he hoped) double-take.

She hadn't needed to roll up the cuffs, she was barefoot, a towel encircled her head… and she was wearing his Single/Taken/Anime t-shirt.

His brain was stuck somewhere between mortification and adoration and 100% confounded by the latter.

A slow grin stretched on her face. "I approve of your sartorial taste, Watts."

"I, uh. Thought I got a different shirt," he mumbled, scratching at his neck.

She quirked an eyebrow and walked over. "You mean you didn't do this on purpose? Huh," she said with a sigh as she flopped onto the couch next to him. "I'm almost disappointed."

Strangely, having her near him was making it easier to think of words, not harder. Then again, talking was much better than imagining what scents would end up on that towel, or realizing that she probably wasn't wearing underwe_okay OKAY_

He dropped the controller with a groan, shoving his hands through his hair. "You already know I'm a nerd and I wasn't planning for you to find out how much of a nerd I actually am." He was absolutely not whining.

"Eh. I'd say you're a moderate nerd. I mean, it's not like you've kept up on all this season's anime, or put volume release dates on your calendar, or anything like that."

He turned, staring, hands retreating from his hair. She was smirking again, head cocked, even though she stretched her arms casually behind her. "You've miraculously discovered my secret," she said, swinging one arm back around to make a sideways victory sign and sticking her tongue out for a moment.

"Oh my god, you've been holding out on me!" he yelped, pointing an accusing finger. "Where the hell were you when last week's episode of Shadow Junction came out?"

"You're joking, right? I was screaming at my laptop for twenty minutes."

"Exactly! What the shit was that? When Polygon of all people found the–"

"Aegis Stone! And then installed it! Without letting the Order know about it!"

"I felt so–"

"Betrayed," they said at once.

"And now you're telling me," Neil said, flinging himself into the couch corner, "we could have been commiserating about it but you were hiding in the Boring People Closet. I'm shocked! Amazed. Taken aback." He grabbed a cocoa mug and drank from it grumpily. "Hope you like marshmallows because this one's mine now."

And found himself uncomfortably close to choking when she crawled across him to snatch the other mug. She snapped back to her spot without noticing his momentary distress.

"You should've told me that right away," she said, and slurped noisily.

"Ugh, you're an animal."

"It's the proper way to gather the 'mallows first, you uncultured swine."

"I'm uncultured because I like my chocolate pure. That makes total sense."

"What was that about the Boring People Closet?"

"Shut up and drink your cocoa, nerd." But he couldn't help grinning. Just for a second.

He set the mug down and went back to gaming. It didn't take long, though, for his mind to start wandering. Why did he feel so… jumpy, when he snuck glances at her? No, not jumpy. Giddy. Like rainbows and sparkles should be floating around him. It wasn't that big of a deal, she was wearing his crappy loungewear. But still. Eva in his clothes, and he felt warm? and cuddly about it? What the f–

"Hey, there's a kickass weapon in this area. See that crack in the mountainside?"

"Uh, yeah," and he glanced at her to see her intent on the screen and his stomach was doing stupid things again, "but it's just a cave. Already been there."

"I can show you!"

He bit back a laugh at her poorly restrained grabby hands. "Sure. knock yourself out." He handed her the controller and sat back. "How do you know about this anyway?" he asked, as she spun through his inventory and pulled out a silver hammer. "You play?"

She shook her head. "Watched Let's Plays. Haven't gotten into this one yet but I like the previous one…" She swung the hammer at a corner of the cave wall. "It blends in really well. You gotta mess with your brightness settings to find it but– ta-da!" A few cracks later and a treasure chest was revealed. She gave the controller back with a smug smile."You're welcome."

"Holy cannoli, what a beauty," he said, staring wide-eyed at the flaming sword the chest granted. "You've _really _been holding out on me, Rosy."

He faked almost falling off the couch when she shoved his shoulder.

"Call me that again and you can forget about binging Kaleidoscope Morning together," she said, sipping primly from her mug.

He nearly dropped the controller. "Wh– you– that's available?"

"Legal and free," she drawled. "I'll have to train you in my ways, grasshopper."

"Is platonic marriage a thing because I will totally marry you for that."

She snorted, jabbed a thumb at the tee shirt. "How soon you forget."

"Touché," he said, mentally facepalming.

"Anyway, thanks for this." She bumped his cheek with her mug. "And, you know, the rest of it. Putting up with my angsting, et cetera."

"What are friends for?" But he paused, and looked at her, and smiled at the cliche. "Besides, I'd have been a total douchenugget to turn you away."

She chuckled. "I know. Still, thanks."

Her side hug was too brief to give him a heart attack, but his face still heated. And yet… She tucked her legs up underneath her, and he settled cross-legged in his corner, and listened to her tips… He felt so _comfortable _it was almost unbearable.

Thunder crashed outside. He saw her flinch in his peripheral vision as he shivered inexplicably. Still, he felt warm from the inside out. And some silly distant part of his brain decided that, if pressed to describe his perfect evening… Well, this was pretty damn close


	4. (not) your boyfriend's shirt flipside

I had such a fun time writing the "Eva in Neil's clothes" fic, I decided I wanted one from Eva's POV too. Originally thought I'd tag something on and realized it was less stifling to have as a standalone.

* * *

Eva, in general, wasn't a fan of using other people's showers. On top of that, even though venting at Neil had made her feel better, she also felt uncomfortably open, like a raw nerve, and trying to ignore such a weird feeling was becoming annoying.

But mostly she was getting cold. Still she tried to patch up her fragile dignity.

"Neil, you don't– I can just towel off– I mean it's nice of you but–"

"No buts," he said as he walked away. "I think your lips are turning blue."

Despite probably descending into hypothermia, her brain latched onto that. By the time Neil returned with a pile of clothes she'd acquired a smirk and some sass ammo. "You been staring at my mouth, Neil?" She was shivering decently now, so the effect probably wasn't great, and yet.

"Please," he said with a snort. "I could tell from 10 feet away." He shoved the clothes at her, said something rapid-fire that she didn't catch because the more rational part of her was trying to parse where the hell she got the guts to say that, and why her chest seized at noticing a hitch in Neil's stride away from her.

She was really cold now, so she wobbled into the bathroom, stripped off everything (even, after agonizing, her soaked underthings) and piled it outside the bathroom– that was what Neil had told her to do, she realized belatedly. If she was lucky she'd have time to throw everything into the dryer herself.

She spent a blessed ten minutes under steaming spray, then grabbed the surprisingly, wonderfully soft towel and dried off, wringing out her hair. The towel was magical, apparently, because after all that it was still dry enough to wrap her hair in. But first, the clothes.

She pulled on the sweatpants, and almost laughed upon realizing they just about fit her. Comfy, too. She picked up the black t-shirt and unfolded it.

"You've got to be kidding me," she muttered, and this time she did laugh, half disbelief and half mortification. _How did he know?_

Honestly, she should have expected this. With a sigh she put it on, eyed herself in the mirror. _Not bad. Not bad at all._ It was unnervingly similar to her own loungewear choices. Except. They were Neil's clothes.

Goosebumps and then warmth spread over her skin. She snorted at herself, encasing her hair in the towel. _Stop it. You're a goddamn adult and these are extenuating circumstances. That's all._ Even so, there was a spring in her step as she gathered up her wet things and went on a laundry excursion.

The carpet was thick, comforting her bare feet as she traipsed toward the living room. A lazy heat moved through her limbs, and she realized she could finally relax now that she wasn't cold. She watched Neil plugging away at his game, leaning against the doorway and crossing her arms casually.

"I'm only going to say this once, so pay attention."

He gave a glance– and then he started, and _really_ looked at her.

Her pulse sped up. She could just make out some pink rising in his cheeks, and she carefully allowed her delight(?!) to manifest in a crooked grin that still ended up wider than she wanted. "I approve of your sartorial taste, Watts."

Five minutes passed in a slight blur, filled with banter made somehow easier by her fast heart. A survival mechanism, the thought registered distantly, so she wouldn't melt into the couch from endless replays of Neil's stare and the lava pit of feelings flowing in her veins. Stealing his controller for a moment helped. Throwing caution to the wind and side-hugging him briefly also helped, though she had to hide her face in the mug of cocoa he'd made her for several minutes after while her brain had technical problems.

Thunder crashed and she flinched, as much from the noise as from the ticklish wave of warmth down her spine. Her feet bumped his legs as she stretched out, but she forgot to freak about that, too busy directing Neil to more secrets in his game. He was actually listening to her. It was nice.

In fact, if she were to describe a perfect night (a silly, distant part of her brain mused)… This was pretty damn close.


	5. Dance studio AU

The lovely mricj and I were toying around with a dancer AU, with Eva and Neil in various set ups: rival dancers, coach-student, etc. I haven't though about it much since writing this snippit but it's definitely found a home in my plotbunny stable.

* * *

Is it wrong? To choose, occasionally, songs that remind him of her voice? She said she approves of whatever motivates him, and he doesn't dare play those songs in front of her. If she knew…

Well. He doesn't let himself think about that.

Sometimes he pretends he's dancing with her, or alongside her. Energy speeds through him from the thought of her fingers brushing his collarbone; imagining her palms on his back lends a wild power to his jumps; his steps become more fluid as his visualizes lifting her, fingers curving over her hipbones.

(He never indulges his wants after a routine. Only in bed, at night, when he can say her name out loud, when he can pretend it has nothing to do with his job.)

It doesn't matter where his inspiration comes from, only that he does something useful with it. She can't tell the difference.

But there are some times when he meets her gaze after a routine, and he glimpses a crack in her posture, a glitch in her expression. And he wonders if she can see it. And for a wrenching moment he wants to lay himself bare, to hell with the consequences… but the fear is stronger.

He wants her to know. He wants her to reach in and drag it free from him. Maybe one of them will find their voice, but for now…

"Again."

She's watching.


	6. Through the storm

I had no idea what the hell this was when I wrote it and still don't. That's what happens when I get ideas at 2AM when I'm supposed to be asleep ((shrug emoji))

* * *

"Neil, it's okay, it's me, _Neil_–"

She grasped his trembling shoulders, straddling his waist, but he still wouldn't stop shaking, gasps and half-words sneaking from his mouth.

"Jesus, you're freezing…" Heart slamming, she lay down against him, fumbling for the nearby blanket to pull over them.

"E-Eva, I'm–I'm sorry, I don't–"

His hands came up to press into her shoulder blades, press her closer to him, and even he as struggled to talk she could feel his pulse calm down.

"I've got you. I'm not going anywhere," she said into his shirt. _You're mine._

Even the second it took to suppress that thought caused others to swirl through her brain, thoughts that were terrible and that she shouldn't be having. _You're broken but I can fix you, I want to stay like this, I want you to need me, I want to give you what you need…_

He sighed, and the tension left him, and she squeezed her eyes shut as her thoughts took an even more inappropriate turn–

But one of his hands moved to the back of her neck, the other to her lower back, and his fingers at her neck began to stroke and now she shivered.

"You're so warm." He _sighed_ the words, hands gentle on her body.

God, she was in deep trouble. And also heaven. Maybe he was too.

Her mind started to feel fuzzy, but she had to ask…

"You're okay?" It sounded more like a statement.

He hummed a yes, still stroking. "Great, actually. This… This is…"

That was definitely his mouth against the top of her head. She swallowed a moan but couldn't prevent a tiny gasp, a little nudge up against him. She pressed fingerprints into his shoulder and hoped that would be enough.

"Thanks, Eva." His voice was husky with sleep (and something else? She didn't dare hope).

In response, she nuzzled her face into his chest.

When his breathing deepened, when she was about to drop off, she let the words out on the smallest of whispers. "I love you." She could pretend he heard it.

"Love you too."

But she didn't have to. And maybe that should have filled her with terror; maybe it would, in the morning. For now she pressed tighter still against him in silent elation, and his arms pulled more snugly around her in return, and they slept.


	7. Cataglottism

There was a word-prompt list floating around Tumblr, and mricj requested several Rosawatts fics. This one is "cataglottism", which means kissing with tongue.

* * *

It should be gross, really. It's been called "swapping spit", for god's sake; there is precisely zero sex appeal in a phrase like that. Also, theoretically, the gross factor should hold regardless of the situation or participants.

But it doesn't. That probably means something, something Eva can't parse when Neil's tongue is stroking hers, hands clutching at her back. So strange; there's no precedent, no formula to explain how doing this sends a drumbeat of want through her head, or how she wants to never stop, keep drinking him in, searching his mouth for more, more, _more_. Until there's nothing separating them. Until he knows nothing but her. Until–

Her burning lungs force them apart. Neil understands, though, the way he's panting too.

"You, you taste really good," he breathes.

_Now_ she gets it.

She pulls him close again, until she can't see his eyes. "You're mine." One– where the tomato did that come from. Two– the rasp in her voice shocks her. But the way his body goes loose under hers, and the tiny gasp he makes when she presses her mouth to his again, seems to mean he doesn't mind.

She slides her tongue along his lips, and he opens his mouth with an ocean-deep moan, and she is lost.


	8. Cheiloproclitic

Dialing down the spice (slightly :P) Another request from mricj: **Cheiloproclitic, **which means being attracted to someone's lips.

* * *

Something was wrong with her. Nothing had changed between them, so it was clearly all on her.

Or maybe it was the weather; the heat could be affecting her. What a cliche that was, though. Still, just in case, she took a long drink from her smoothie.

It was delicious, but somehow it only made her think of Neil drinking greedily from his lemonade, the straw making annoying noises. And that image made everything worse.

Whenever he smiled, hell, whenever he _talked_ lately, she had to actively think about not staring at his lips. She failed every time, stared for just long enough to get that mortified jolt about _shit he'll notice_ and then not being able to even glance in his direction. He hadn't noticed, thank god, but surely her luck would run out eventually.

Because she couldn't stop thinking about his lips touching _her._ On her mouth, on the back of her neck, her hand, her–

"Ohmygod no," she groaned aloud, head clunking against the chaise lounge. She was not going to think X-rated thoughts about her colleague. Above the belt stuff was manageable enough, despite even that making her head spin.

But… they _were_ only thoughts. And as much as Neil made claims to the contrary, he couldn't read her mind. If she just let herself think them and didn't tie herself in knots over it, well, they'd lose their luster eventually, right? She was a professional (and had a decent poker face to boot); she wasn't going to let her crazy imaginings get in the way of her work. Or their relationship. It helped that he didn't have any feelings for her.

It was summer. She could indulge. She'd be fine.

"Heeeeyyy!"

She shielded her eyes and took in Neil jogging toward her, ice cream cones in hand.

"One mint chip, as commanded," he said, handing it to her. "Get to it while it's hot– er, cold."

"What'd you get?" She was a bit sun blind.

"Felt like vanilla this time." He took a big bite, sighed rapturously, then licked the ice cream ring from his mouth. "Simple pleasures, y'know?"

She'd be _fine_. She just might have to dunk him in the ocean first.


	9. The Fiction We Tell Ourselves

Minor(?) spoilers for those who haven't finished Finding Paradise. An alternate slash expanded scene with most of the dialogue lifted from the game. This bunny wouldn't let go of me until I wrote it. Chapter title from the Finding Paradise OST; suggested listening if this ficlet were longer lol

* * *

It's so still. Like shouting into a blanket.

"What we do is different than just…" She gestures, helplessly, wrestling with the truth of Neil's words, "just _this._"

He's impassive. "How is it different?"

"Because there's more to it!" _Goddamn it._ "There's more to what we do. We fulfill wishes. We give _meaning_ to people's lives." Her throat aches. Her eyes, stupidly, are stinging. "What we do… It has to be more than that of an imaginary friend." _What the_ hell _is the point, otherwise?_

"It's a lot more elaborate, for sure," Neil says, after a long moment. He steps toward her. "But for someone who had to fight just to let go of fantasy and embrace reality… Maybe our existence was merely an unwelcome amplifier. A reminder of the make-believe, the imaginary… And the endless possibilities that make reality seem less than what it is."

Hearing the skeleton of her thoughts bounced back at her is somehow both comforting and strange. She sighs, adjusts her coat.

The doctor's voice filters in from above like a deity, and Eva sighs again.. It's all been for nothing. "I guess we don't have time to implement any substantial changes." The cold weight of failure is settling in her stomach, and cold snow is falling from the atomic sky, and Neil is speaking.

"We might not have time… but what about _her_?"

Faye stares at them, face neutral.

Her mind somehow blanks, but she takes in Neil's words with painfully sharp clarity. It's brilliant; it's insane. Faye, a figment(?) of Colin imagination, taking over for them? "The– The ethical implications of that…" She can't even look at him, trying to process. "There's a reason that's never been done, Neil! There's no precedent–"

"It hasn't been done because no patient's had the opportunity," Neil shoots back, and she swears his eyes are glowing behind those infernal glasses. "And we could _make_ the precedent!"

The alternative is failure.

She answers with sputtering boilerplate about the contract.

"When has that ever stopped us?" A lopsided grin. Hollow, like her chest feels. Or maybe she's projecting.

The world shakes and flakes off more debris. She feels coldly calm, even though her heart is racing. "Neil, you–" _insufferable, cocksure–_

"Go on. I'll be right behind."

_flippant, maddening–_ She holds up a finger, takes a breath. "_Neil,_ you–" Drops her arm and moves toward him, shaking her head. "You have to do one, one thing for me. Just, just don't–"

And she knows exactly what it is, and she's about to say it, but now she's right in front of him, and grabbing his shoulder, and who told her body to do _that_–

She kisses him. It's firm, and fast, and her fingers on his shoulder shake. And then his lips start to move against hers, and she pulls away, and steps back.

She opens her mouth. "…Don't say I never trust you."

Then she turns away from him, and logs out.

He stares at the spot where she left, blinking, a few times, as if the mirage of Eva might pop back in to say what the _cucumber_ just happened. No, he knows what just happened, but… _what?_

A jagged flash of a chuckle leaves him. He shakes his head, adjusts his glasses. _She… sure is something._

He summons the interface.


End file.
